Hi, my name is Katie and I am in step two of my program: I believe there is a higher power that can help return me to sanity.
And this is where you either run away nervously, rightfully so at that, or say, “Hi Katie.”
When I began the work this month, it kept feeling empty. Ya know? Like, I know I am not actually clinically insane. But as I began to process what I was asking of myself, I started to question if that was verifiably true or not. Then I noticed how timely that this self-examination fell in December/January. So let’s look back shall we?
- In the USA, it was an election year. And to say it was a very strenuous, anxiety filled race to fill the Senate, House, and White House with your personal preference… would be putting it on the extremely mild side.
- Globally, we are in the midst of a pandemic that has directly infected almost 90 million people. 90,000,000 people. 1,800,000 of those never recovered and that number continues to climb. We will be dealing with the trauma of this for a very long time to say the least. Also, humanity aside, things aren’t, uh, looking great for the earth right now— environmentally speaking. So…. Oofta.
- Personally, I am a mother of two active, young children in the middle of a dangerous pandemic, crazy politicians seeking re-election or election wanting my vote, dissecting my belief system and it feels like the world is ending. Yeah, not… uh, not doing too great over here if I am being honest.
It has been rough out here in reality, but this is where my personal insanity lies frustrated, battered, and still determined to prove itself. From the meager work I have done, I think my insanity is based on control i.e. responsibility. Not a need for control, but voices of the past telling me, through so many misrepresentations of healthy living as well as distortions of healthy spirituality, that a real person and/or Christian has it all together and that I too must try to do the ducking impossible. (My autocorrect changes uncouth language to ducking, enjoy the humor as I have simply embraced the joy of it.)
Now, part of this is based on family history. Having a mother that wrestled with anemia while at the same time having a father who struggled with a sliding degree of mental illness, my way of bringing wholeness was to bring less to the table. Be less so the family as a whole didn’t have to deal with more. That isn’t to say I was mute, unloved, or didn’t have space to solve what was important to me— I was and did. But I also spent too much time internally yelling, “I am here!!!” It taught me to put on the brave face and get the work done. Except the dishes, I still despise washing dishes. Was this my parents fault? I certainly don’t blame them. They did the best they could in the situation they were in. Could they have done better? With my brothers, yes, but since I am practically perfect…
Add to that the message church life taught me and it was like we were signaling directly to Control Central that I could be a promising candidate for key-note speaker at the next convention. I don’t think I could count the times I went to church and heard messages about coming to God as you are. Which is great and true, in fact there is a wonderful, old hymn that sings, “Just as I am without one plea.” It is so beautiful! That is until the seats and pews begin to be filled with people that all look the same… say the same thing… do the same thing— and I am not speaking liturgically. A Christian says this, votes only this way, governs the morality of the nation a certain way… and it goes on and ducking on. Nothing is questioned or when it is, you get called to the proverbial principle’s office. I look back and can see how I embraced this and warred with it at the same time, and I am exhausted with it.
To this day, I fight the pressure to control myself. Don’t yell, remain calm, if you don’t have the answers find them, hide your real thoughts, pick which questions are safe to ask of which person, people are watching, your needs are not necessarily needs, you can get by without, and hold the cards close to the breast. Sure, there is wisdom in some of those things, but feeling the need to conceal every thought, blemish, and emotion leaves a person feeling rather hollow and perpetually tense.
But if I believe there is a high power that can return me to sanity… And if sanity is opposite of insanity…
Then does that mean God wants to bring me to a place where I can be free to be imperfectly me? I am not talking about the cliche phrase of ‘God bringing us to a place of brokenness.’ But rather a space of wholeness by way of acceptance and love of my limited-ness?
The place where the weight of the nation is not actually on my shoulders or where the burden of the Church is not resting on my lungs— I cannot fix what is broken, I can only change me. Even as I typed those words, my mind is squawking on a giant megaphone, “But what about…?” The peacemaker in me is writhing, but this truth stands. I will still use my voice, ask questions—probably even more now, and attempt to bring diverse unity; but the souls of 7 billion people do not rest on me. I cannot be responsible for an entire nation, only myself. And my kids, until they move out. And my husband, sheesh.
If you have ever watched the Disney film “Toy Story,” you might remember the scene where Woody flips out on Buzz and screams, “YOU ARE A TOY!” It takes a bit more time before Buzz accepts this truth, but I am to the point where I do. I AM A HUMAN! And it is in this space of acceptance of what that means, that I feel the warmth of love surrounding me.
In “Living Buddha, Living Christ,” Thich Naht Hanh wrote my favorite quote of all time, “Where there is understanding, compassion is born.” I understand myself a bit better and the compassion that is trickling forth for myself is a healing balm. This is what I am meant to be: human. Not responsible for all of creation: simply human.
“Just to be is a blessing. Just to live is holy.” ~ Abraham Joshua Heschel, “The Insecurity of Freedom”